


Bend My Neck to Him

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, D/s, Dom/sub, Domination, Hannigram - Freeform, In Character, Kissing, M/M, Play within a Play, Slow Burn, Switch!Hannibal, Thomas!Hannibal, Vanda!Will, Venus in Fur - Freeform, Venus in Fur!AU, switch!Will - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5498549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter branches out in his artistic endeavors by writing a play based off of an old S&M novel. He needs to cast someone for the main part, and when Will Graham wanders into his office unannounced, it seems a fated encounter. However, both men carry secrets with them into the play, and as the night drags on, where do the characters end and Will and Hannibal begin?</p><p>Venus in Fur!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apéritif

Hannibal Lecter sat upright in the desk chair of his lavish office, speaking quietly but fervently to his fiancée on the other end of the line. Outside, a storm beat against the building walls and shook the trees to their foundations.

“It’s maddening. There are no men like this. No interesting men. No virile men, shameless in their endeavors. They have no patience, no wit. They are rude, Bedelia. Vapid and rude.”

The light’s flickered behind his head, darkening the red walls and extinguishing his bright eyes. He could no longer hear the liquid voice of the woman on the phone. “Bedelia. Have I lost you?”

There was a knock at his door, sharp and heavy. Hannibal looked up and set his phone down on his desk. His appointments were through for the day, and yet the knock came again.

When he opened the door, a young man, looking rather disheveled and twitchy, spoke up. “Am I late?”

“I’m afraid you just missed the audition,” Hannibal said, watching the stranger fumble with his bags and run a nervous hand through his unkempt dark curls.

The man walked straight past him, threw his things down on a leather chair, and started rifling through one of his bags. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ve had quite the—”

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Hannibal said, vaguely irritated and looking for an opening to ask this straggler to leave.

Looking into his face at last, the man said, “Eyes are distracting. See too much, don’t see enough—and it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, ‘oh, those whites are really white,’ or ‘he must have hepatitis’, or ‘is that a burst vein?’ So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.”

Hannibal smiled despite himself. “I must ask your name.”

Realization crossed his face, and he wiped his hand on his jacket before offering it to Hannibal. “Sorry. My name is Will Graham. And . . . you are?”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Pleasure to meet you.” He withdrew his hand and returned to his natural state of poised composure.

Will continued searching through his bag. “The pleasure is all mine, Dr.—wait.” He looked back at the blonde man standing by the desk. “Hannibal Lecter. You wrote the play.”

“Indeed. At least, I adapted it.”

He straightened. “And you’re directing it?”

Hannibal almost chuckled. “Within an inch of its life.”

“I’m a fan of your work, doctor. Mostly the psychiatric articles. What possessed you to write a play?”

Seeing no polite way out of the conversation, Hannibal gave a half-honest answer. “I was drawn to the source material. It’s a clever premise.”

Will smiled ironically. “If by clever you mean lascivious.” He unzipped his jacket completely unceremoniously, revealing a leather vest made entirely out of straps, and what appeared to be a leather dog collar tight around his neck. “I don’t generally go around in this sort of thing, but that’s the play, isn’t it? Sadism, masochism.”

“Not quite,” Hannibal said, grateful his auburn suit was hiding the blush that had warmed his throat and chest at Will’s attire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued!  
> Comment if you liked! :D


	2. Amuse-Bouche

“The play takes place in 1870,” Hannibal said off-handedly. He began to organize his already spotless desktop.

Will looked down at his outfit. “This isn’t exactly 1870.”

“No.”

“Well, it’ll do for tonight. Here is—” he pulled an old folder out of his bag and placed it on Hannibal’s desk, “my résumé.” He waited half a second before speaking again. “It’s relatively bare, but I’m good. I’m made for this part. Even my name—”

Hannibal looked up. “The character’s name is Samuel.”

Will paused uncomfortably, then he continued, “Sam, Graham, close enough. I’ve—”

“Mr. Graham, you are a professor, yes?”

The young man rubbed his face. “Yeah, that’s—yes.” He smiled awkwardly. “It’s as good a performance art as any. And I, uh, had an appointment, so . . .”

“What time was your appointment?” Hannibal opened his organizer, well aware that he had not penned “Graham” anywhere in his schedule.

“2:15. I know it’s . . . hours late, but . . . better late than . . . something.” Will did not bother to turn away from Hannibal while he quickly unzipped his blue khakis and pulled them off, revealing slim latex shorts that left very little to the imagination.

Hannibal’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, though he did not move. “What are you doing?”

“Auditioning,” Will deadpanned. “And I brought costumes. I have a coat that’s—”

“Mr. Graham, I must request that you leave. I am very busy, and it is getting late.”

Will stopped. “You don’t want me to read?”

“I don’t want you to read.”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I’m here. You’re here. What would be the harm in—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graham, but I’m looking for someone different.”

Will’s eyes had enormous depth when they made contact with Hannibal’s. He was reaching, and Hannibal wasn’t reaching back. “Someone who isn’t me.”

“Mr. Graham—”

“It’s Will. Tell me, doctor, what is the harm in reading with me?”

“I hope you do not take it as a personal slight that I am tired, and my fiancée is waiting for me to come home to dinner.”

Will’s face fell. “No, no of course not. I, uh . . . thank you for the opportunity.”

Hannibal nodded curtly. “Certainly. And congratulations on the outfit. Very striking.”

He bent to pick up his bag, but paused to reconsider. “May I show you the coat? I found it at the thrift store. Its very 1870-something.”

The phone rang abruptly from Hannibal’s desk.

“Please excuse me.” He got up, took his phone, and swiftly left the room.

Bedelia’s voice was a pleasant reprieve from the oddity of the previous few minutes.

Will took the window of opportunity to withdraw black trousers, a white button-down, and a large green coat from his bag. He put the shirt and pants on over the bondage ensemble, then slipped the coat over his arms and let it settle comfortably on his shoulders.

Hannibal reentered a few moments later to find the unkempt man now standing tall and clean in well fitted period clothing. Beneath his shirt, Hannibal could make out the thick leather straps of his vest, and of course, there was that collar that cut just beneath his Adam’s apple.

“You should see what I brought for the other lead,” Will said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the hint in every chapter that is reminiscent of it's 'Hannibal' episode.  
> Comment if you liked :D


	3. Potage

“Will,” Hannibal said with thinly veiled impatience, “There’s no one here to read with you.”

“You’re here,” Will said, fishing around in his bag again, “You would make a perfect Antonetti.”

“Angeletti.”

“Right, Angeletti. Where is that damn coat—”

Hannibal set his phone back down on the desk. “Have you read the play?”

“Oh, yeah, I flipped through it a bit on the train. It’s based on something, right?”

“It is based on an old Italian novel called—”

Will smirked. “Do you read Italian, Dr. Lecter? I bet you read it in Italian.”

Hannibal looked at his watch. “Yes, I did. Regardless, the book caused quite a scandal in 1870.”

“What with all the S&M porn.”

“It isn’t S&M porn.”

He laughed. “Right, and Samuel Bottelli was a man in the original.”

Hannibal cocked his head a shade to the left. “I thought that modern touch would be an interesting take on Sophia and Daniel’s story.”

“Two men begging and beating each other on stage _is_ interesting. Not that I’m complaining—”

“It is a great love story.”

“I’m sure that’s what the author intended. Everyone else thought it was porn.”

Exasperated, Hannibal touched the scalpel atop his desk. Will’s white shirt would look rather lovely stained red. Or perhaps just two fingers tugging back on that collar . . .

Will sighed. “It’s Folie à Deux.”

Surprised, Hannibal took his finger off the blade. “Madness shared by two,” he responded. He opened his desk drawer and took out a clean copy of his own script.

“Tell me about Daniel Angeletti.”

“He’s one of the shiftless rich of his day,” Hannibal said, coming around to the front of the desk. “Well-traveled. Cultivated. Literate. Intelligent.”

Will shrugged. “All in his head.”

“Possibly.”

“He’s like you.”

Hannibal went to sit in the leather chair opposite Will’s things. He set the script in his lap. “I suppose he is, in a way. Would you like to know about Samuel?”

“Oh, I know about him, but go ahead, if you want.” Will moved his bags to the floor and sat down in their place. He gestured for Hannibal to continue.

“I would say Samuel is a typical young man of his time, in spite of his professed principles.”

Will’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Professed principles?”

Hannibal crossed his legs, graceful as a dancer in this movement as much as any he had made thus far. “He’s outwardly proper, probably quite poised. Cultivated, like Daniel.”

“A match made in Hell, as it were,” Will said flippantly. “So I suppose this is the divan.” He got up and walked to the chaise lounge near the window. “Very impactful. And this—” he pointed to the ladder against the wall, “—a phallic symbol?”

Hannibal’s mouth twitched into a smile. “More a vehicle for understanding.” He looked up pointedly. “It accesses my library.”

Will followed his eyes to the second floor of the office: a ledge stacked to the ceiling with books. “Symbolic nonetheless, doctor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!  
> Comment if you liked! :D


	4. Œuf

“So,” Will said, absentmindedly stroking the top of the divan. “Where are we?”

Hannibal sat up so as to rest his elbows on his knees. “In 19th century Florence. As the play begins, the lights come up on Angeletti reading by the fire in an ornate inn.”

“Then comes a knock at the door,” Will said. He returned to his bags and pulled out an extremely tattered script. “He’s wearing a cape when he comes in, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Will dug into the bags for the umpteenth time and eventually found a thin black cape. “Thrift shop,” he said, shaking it out and throwing it around his shoulders. He haphazardly tied the string about his neck and proceeded to flip through the script. “Okay, where do you want me?”

Hannibal met Will’s eyes, took in his unsophisticated stance in those dramatic clothes, and he felt an uncharacteristic flutter at the base of his throat. He ignored it. “Wherever you feel most comfortable.”

“I am comfortable standing where you want me to stand, doctor.”

He sighed and gestured to the desk. Will complied with the suggestion. “Further left.” Will stepped left. “Left,” he repeated.

Will cocked his head in confusion, and then his face lit up. “Ah! Stage left.” He moved to the right.

It was potentially an effect of the lighting, but Will could have sworn he saw a smirk in Hannibal’s eyes. “We can read to the bottom of page three.”

“One thing, the epigraph here. “And the Lord hath smitten him and delivered him into a man’s hands.” It’s—”

Hannibal sat back in his chair. “That is from the Bible. From the Book of Judith.”

Will breathed a quick, humorless laugh and rubbed his face. “No, it isn’t.”

Licking his lip in aggravation, Hannibal opened his hands. “Fair enough. A _woman’s_ hands. But that doesn’t quite fit the story I am telling.”

“Then your story hardly fits the source material.”

Hannibal rubbed his palms together. “Will, two men may love just as fervently as any—”

“I’m not talking about the relationship. I’m talking about Sophia. Her story is defiant of gender, defiant of Daniel. And the goddess—it’s—this doesn’t fit. Did you not find that aspect central to their ‘love’, as you call it?”

“Perhaps I found a different aspect central to their love, as I call it.”

Unwilling to argue, Will broke eye contact. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.” He flipped through the script. “Samuel must have an Italian accent. I’ve never really done accents before, but I’ll give it a try.” He paused. “Pleasure to meet you, Signore Angeletti.”

Hannibal stared blankly at Will Graham, who had just sounded distinctly European, just not anything close to Italian. “Excellent, if you’ve just stepped off the boat from Northern England.”

Will didn’t look up, but he maintained the accent. “Perhaps I have, Signore.”

“Then perhaps Samuel Hobbs is a more appropriate name.”

“Hobbs,” Will said, testing the word in his own voice. “Sounds like a good family name.”

Hannibal nodded once. “It does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nice knowing this fandom will probably get my random references xD  
> Comment if you liked! :D


	5. Coquilles

“So, let’s start.”

Hannibal casually opened his hands, inviting Will to continue. “Let’s start.”

“ _Knock knock knock_.” His English accent returned, and suddenly the nervous stranger in the middle of Hannibal’s office became an upright, languid gentleman. Samuel Hobbs feigned knocking on an invisible door.

“ _Come in_.” Hannibal let himself slip into Daniel’s Italian timber.

“ _Dr. Daniel Angeletti?”_ Samuel moved closer to the man in the chair. “ _My name is Samuel Hobbs. I’m staying in the room above yours. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I found this book in the birch grove last night._ ” Will held out his script. “ _A copy of_ Candide _, with your bookplate inside. It was sitting at the fountain by that statue of Venus.”_

Hannibal stood and pretended to take the script. “ _Thank you. I was just asking the maid about that._ ”

“ _I would have sent it by maid, but I found this rather provocative bookmark inside. Did you draw this?”_ Will ripped a page out of his script without any fanfare, shocking Hannibal out of his character for a moment. He took the page and held it up for Hannibal to see.

“ _I did, yes,_ ” Daniel admitted. “ _Hades and Persephone, curled together as intimately as Adam and Eve._ ”

“ _I certainly understand your fascination,_ ” Samuel said, turning the page over to admire the drawing that was not there, “ _The picture’s ravishing. And how he’s draped her in his impressive cape—_ “

Daniel walked behind Samuel to take in the depiction with him. “ _Or perhaps the cape is hers, and she has draped him.”_

Samuel smiled, “ _It’s poetic, isn’t it? Keeper of the Underworld, clothed by a goddess._ ”

Hannibal swallowed, taken by Will’s complete indulgence in his script. “And unclothed,” he said darkly. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled Will’s scent, half expecting notes of a 19th century shipyard. Instead, he found pine, dog fur, and a cheap, unholy aftershave.

“Did you just . . . _smell_ me?” Will turned abruptly.

The return of Will’s measured American voice was much more welcome than he had anticipated. “Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer aftershave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle.”

Will huffed. “I keep getting it for Christmas.”

“ _Well_ ,” Daniel said, “ _Thank you for returning it._ ”

“ _Here is your_ Candide _with your Persephone, safe and sound._ _You’re complete again._ ”

Daniel gestured to one of the black chairs in his hotel room. “ _Would you like to sit down, Signore Hobbs?_ ”

“ _Thank you.”_

“ _May I take your cloak?_ ”

“ _Ah, that’s very kind of you.”_ Samuel untied the cape and handed it to his new companion.

Daniel took the garment and folded it with great care, hands unconsciously smoothing the fabric.

“ _You’re trembling, Signore Angeletti._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope none of you are too disappointed by what I chose to include from Coquilles xD  
> Anyone want to guess why Daniel/Hannibal is reading Voltaire, instead of Faust like Thomas?  
> Comment if you liked! :D


	6. Entrée

Daniel closed his fist over the cape to stop his hand from shaking. He set it down over the back of his desk chair. “ _I’m sorry. May I ring for something?_ ”

“ _Some coffee would be very welcome._ ”

Hannibal mimed pouring a coffee into an invisible cup and handed it to Will.

“ _Thank you.”_ Samuel took a sip and savored the familiar burn. “ _I hope I haven’t disturbed you, trodding across your ceiling in my boots._ ”

“ _Not at all,_ ” Daniel said, returning the pot of coffee to its place on his hotel desk. “ _Trod with your boots as hard as you like._ ”

Samuel smiled. “ _So you’re an artist, Signore Angeletti. A dreamer._ ”

“ _Dreamer, no. Men dream so long they forget to live. I leave the dreaming to God._ ”

“ _You dream of Hades and Persephone. Of shared cloaks and intimate gestures.”_

“ _I indulge_ —Will, we can skip over this.” Hannibal flipped to the next page in his script.

“Oh, no, go on. Read it.”

Hannibal sighed. “ _I indulge in this simple, innate pleasure. The electricity of stroking a thick cloak; of touching, by proxy, the body it has swathed_.”

“ _Well said. Yet somehow I suspect there is more to this obsession than Renaissance aesthetics. Perhaps your father offered his cape as a blanket on occasion._ ” Samuel watched for any sign of discomfort in Daniel’s eyes. “ _I’m sorry. I’m prying.”_

Daniel caressed his neighbor’s discarded garment. “ _I had an uncle, Robertus, who was fond of cloaks._ ”

“ _Well, there. That explains everything._ ”

The older man adjusted his cufflinks. “ _We’re all easily explicable. What we’re not is easily extricable._ ”

“ _Extricable from?_ ” Will paused. “That’s the bottom of page three.”

Outside, thunder shattered their moment of silence, and the windows lit up for an instant. Rain continued to pound against the roof.

Hannibal dragged himself, unwillingly, from the trance of their performance. “That was impressive, Will.”

Will shrugged. “I was stumbling, trying to find my way in it.”

“You didn’t seem to be stumbling.”

He reddened and averted his eyes. “Neither did you, doctor.”

“Whatever the reason, you allow me to believe I am someone other than myself.”

“And who is that self?”

Hannibal ignored him and looked back at his script. “Earlier, you were saying something about a coat.”

“Oh, yes.” Will returned to his bags and dug through them until he found a maroon frock coat. He shook it out for Hannibal to see.

“That’s lovely,” Hannibal said. “May I?”

Will offered the coat to him. “Please.”

Hannibal unbuttoned his plaid suit jacket and folded it neatly on his desk. His black shirt and red vest were tightly fitted over his broad chest. He pulled the frock coat on and straightened the sleeves, then turned so Will could see the material snug against his shoulders and hanging elegantly over his black trousers.

“It fits you urbanely,” Will said, surprised.

Hannibal adjusted the collar, letting his hands linger on the smooth fabric. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these two idiots in their handsome outfits, checking each other out xD  
> Comment if you liked! :D


End file.
